


in retrospect

by redbluewriting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, First Time, Hate Sex, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Smut, Unrequited Love, Virgin Keith (Voltron), or so they think, this is what happens when you fuck your rival without considering the CONSEQUENCES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 08:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18847768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbluewriting/pseuds/redbluewriting
Summary: In retrospect, Lance should have realised. He should have realised that Keith was a virgin and that this hate-fuck wasn't really a hate-fuck at all. But now he's in too deep to back out without breaking anyones heart. In retrospect, Lance is an idiot.





	in retrospect

**Author's Note:**

> glad you're reading <3

The thing that irked Lance most about Keith wasn’t actually his hair. No, he could get past the hair, and the tacky red jacket. He could get past the stupid shoes and hover bike, and the scowl, and the snarky attitude, and even the dumb knife he carried everywhere. Lance could get past most things about Keith; but the thing he absolutely could not let go of, the thing he absolutely couldn’t get past, was how infuriatingly _popular_ Keith was at the Garrison.

That wasn’t to say anyone liked Keith. Oh no, nobody liked him; perhaps Lance should rephrase that statement. He was infuriatingly, horribly jealous, of how many people Keith had to be _fucking_ at the Garrison. They weren’t even at the damn Garrison anymore, and it still bothered Lance. It didn’t even matter what Keith’s orientation was, he always had at least a dozen people drooling over him at one single time, no matter how much of an irritating bastard he was. He could be rude, sour, oblivious, and ultimately someone would still want to fuck him because he was muscular and lean with dark hair and violet eyes and stupid, _stupid_ plush lips. It didn’t matter if he brushed everyone off, if he was a pain in the ass in fighter class; put him in a tight pair of jeans and leave him to pout in the corner by himself, and every pair of eyes in a fifty-metre radius would ultimately drift towards Keith. And Lance fucking hated it.

He hated Keith. Still did, Voltron aside. Keith was irritating, Keith was rude, Keith knew just how to get under his skin. Lance always tried so hard to charm people; he was the one who was good in bed, he doubted Keith was. Lance knew how to seduce, knew how to show someone a good time, so it drove him mad that when people looked, they looked at Keith. What the hell did Keith have that he didn’t? If he was lucky, he’d steal an admirer, woo someone into his bed instead of Keith’s, fuck them until they didn’t know anything but his name. That was the best way to get back at someone, anyone. Hate fucking. It was only a matter of time then, before Lance realised that the only person he hadn’t fucked as a way of getting back at Keith, was Keith.

The realisation came on a mission, when Lance was already furious. It came mid battle, and he’d wrangled it down and continued fighting and continued hating Keith and his smart ass and his dumb moves that always ended in them almost getting killed. And Lance thought on it for a little while, once they were back in the castle. He thought on it tucked away in his room, practically steaming over it, his shoulders taught with tension and anger. He could fuck better than Keith, he could hate better than Keith, because he was better than Keith. He was going to put Keith in his goddam place.

Lance caught him after the showers, when Keith returned to the hanger to check Red for injuries. It started with words, fierce, harsh words, like words between them always were. The fight escalated, and they were shouting, and Keith shoved him, and it was exactly what Lance wanted. His blood felt on fire, he felt alive, and Keith was wild and angry and flushed and really, really fucking hot. And Lance was going to fuck him senseless.

In retrospect, Lance should have realised. He should have realised when Keith’s kisses were sloppy and unpractised, he should have realised when Keith clung to his shoulders instead of pushing back at him like Lance was doing, or realised when his whole chest flushed ten shades of red when Lance took his shirt off in the bedroom. He should have realised it a lot sooner, but he didn’t, maybe because he was so caught up in the fact it was _Keith_. In retrospect, Lance was an idiot.

He should have realised, but he didn’t, not until he had Keith pinned to the bed, until he was tossing his legs to the side and pushing a finger roughly into the boys ass, and Keith was squirming, his face screwing up with every emotion and then-

“Slower,” he gasped.

He was on his back, stripped of all his clothing, legs held firmly down by Lance and a finger pushing its way inside him except that had caused Lance to stop very, very quickly.

“C-can you go slower, please,” Keith panted, soft like he feared disrupting anything. “I’m not-“

He swallowed, face getting redder by the second, until Lance thought he saw tears forming in his eyes. And all the while he just sat there frozen, like a dumbass, a finger in Keith and confusion bubbling up in his chest.

“I’m not used to this,” said Keith.

And at that point Lance stopped dead. Because… sorry? Had he heard that right? Keith was looking up at him, all teary eyed and breathless and… was this _not_ a hate fuck?

“Not used to it?” Lance echoed.

It was all falling into place, slowly, terrifying, clicking together. Keith hadn’t… Keith was… It was the kissing, right? The kissing should have given it away. Or maybe when Lance first grabbed him; it had been all snarls and sneers before that, but one kiss and Keith had _melted_. Oh shit, _shit_ , fuck.

“Keith,” Lance said calmly, as calmly as you could with a finger up someone’s ass who you thought hated you but might actually- “Keith are you… you’ve slept with people before, right?”

Keith’s eyes were wide, comically so, and he squirmed a little before realising Lance still had a finger in him- _god, shit, was he meant to take that out_ \- and stilling.

“No,” he replied hoarsely.

“No,” Lance echoed.

He had his answer, but it wasn’t making sense.

“But at the Garrison,” he said. “Like, you’ve been with people there. Like, you’ve had sex.”

Keith stared at him, stared and stared and wet his lips nervously and Lance was really beginning to think he should at least remove his finger.

“No,” Keith said.

“You’re a _virgin?_ ” Lance blurted.

“Is that… is that a problem?”

Keith shrunk back a little, hands curling anxiously into the sheets and eyes searching Lance’s own. That hadn’t been a problem ten minutes ago; it hadn’t been a problem when they were in the hangar arguing like they always did, and it was getting heated and it was getting physical, and Keith had shoved him and he’d shoved back. It wasn’t a problem when Keith got all up in his face, and when instead of punching him Lance yanked him into a kiss, grabbed his hair and forced his tongue between Keith’s lips. At least he hadn’t thought it was a problem, not when Keith first clutched at his shoulders, or when Lance growled into the others mouth and practically pulled him off his feet. That’s what it was, a friendly, unproblematic, hate fuck. Unless Lance was the only one that saw it that way.

“Lance?”

Keith’s voice, small and timid and not like Keith at all, was what brought him crashing back into the present. And shit, he should have realised he was the only one carrying that roughness from the start.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” Keith muttered, but it came out mumbled.

It came out small and afraid and not what either of them had hoped it to be. Keith was trying to be tough, like he always was cause that was _Keith_. Snappish and aggressive and smart-assed. But he was failing, tripping and falling in a way Lance had never seen. Failing at being tough, which Keith only ever did when he really, really, _cared_.

“I don’t care,” Lance blurted.

Keith stilled, watching him cautiously as his legs grew tense where Lance had them slung over his knee. This was something Keith cared about. This was something Keith-fucking-Kogane was actually scared of and cared about. His stupid fucking virginity. _Fuck_. Had Lance just taken it? He only had one finger in him so surely that didn’t count, but how could he be sure? Keith’s eyes looked teary, which was wrong on so many fucking levels, and Lance was feeling like a right ass because the one thing on Earth Keith actually seemed nervous about, the one thing that maybe he was unsure about, was something Lance was in the process of tossing aside like it meant _nothing_. And he was _not_ about to be that guy.

“No, I don’t, of course I don’t care, Keith,” he said.

Lance spoke gentler now, slowly getting the hang of the situation. He removed his finger, finally, silent apology forming in the way he rubbed Keith’s legs after the other flinched.

“I don’t mind,” he repeated, then smiled. “But I would’ve taken it slower from the start if I knew.”

Keith huffed a little laugh, and fuck, he looked so soft. He looked so soft and unassuming, acted so tender, how hadn’t Lance noticed this wasn’t what he thought it was?

“You don’t need to be that gentle,” he said.

“Hey, everyone needs their first time to be gentle.”

Lance smiled, and Keith’s eyes were still wide but less afraid. For a second this felt like a really beautiful, genuine moment. Then Lance shuffled down the bed, gently pried Keith’s legs apart, and swallowed his cock into his mouth to continue having a crisis. Keith, by the sounds of it, had no problem with this change in pace. He choked on a startled moan, head falling back against the mattress as Lance took him further down his throat. Keith wasn’t too big, just the right size actually to fit in your mouth and still have room to continue having an existential crisis. Lance bobbed his head mechanically, finding he didn’t have to do much to have the boy squirming and gasping wordlessly on the bed. The boy who he hated. Having Keith’s cock in his mouth did not mean Lance didn’t hate him anymore.

Lance moaned in frustration, which only seemed to egg Keith on further, because the boy gave a startled whine and grabbed at Lance’s shoulders. He was meant to fuck Keith because he hated him. Cause hate fucking was his thing. Who cared if it was healthy, Lance got off on it, his partners got off on it, and they could go right back to hating or ignoring each other after. It was a way of taking out frustration that had a happier ending than punching each other. Who didn’t want to get fucked senseless to get back at some insufferable prick? He was hot, Keith was hot, they hated each other’s guts. Hate fucking seemed exactly like Keith’s thing actually; how the hell hadn’t he hate fucked every guy to ever lay eyes on him at the Garrison? Keith hated every one, and up until like three minutes ago, Lance was kind of assuming Keith fucked everyone too.

Well Lance was wrong. Lance had never been so wrong in his life. Keith was squeezing his shoulders and moaning helplessly into the mattress, hard cock leaking and legs twitching whenever Lance lapped at his balls or ran his tongue along the underside of his dick. Keith was coming apart from a fucking _basic blow job_ , one Lance was barely putting any goddam effort into, because he was freaking out because Keith was a _virgin_. Keith didn’t see this as a hate fuck, never had, and Lance felt like an ass. An ass who’d just grabbed and kissed him, roughed him up and stripped him naked and was ready to fuck him senseless all while Keith was what? Thinking this was normal? Thinking this was how Lance would treat him if he _liked_ him? If he _knew_ he was taking his virginity? And suddenly, whether or not he hated Keith became secondary. Because this meant something to Keith, and Lance would not be the asshole who ruined his first time because he’d hurt him and his feelings. No, it just wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t that kind of guy no thank you.

So he kept sucking Keith off. Kept up with it until Keith was tugging desperately at his shoulders, whining his name and trying to draw Lance upwards. So he went, left a wet trail up Keith’s chest before he was there, face to face with him again, forced to confront how vulnerable Keith looked. The guy was barely verbal, face flushed so red and eyes so dazed Lance was actually a little concerned. He grabbed for Lance though, wrapped his arms tight around his shoulders like he wanted him there, like he- like he wanted to be held when he came.

So Lance obliged. Like an idiot. He let Keith cling to him, braced himself with an arm curled around Keith as he reached down to take the others cock in hand. Keith whimpered, tucked his face into Lance’s shoulder and shook and shook. It was so unlike him, so unexpected; Lance had never thought he could be like this. Yet here he was, their ruthless red paladin, tucked under Lance and moaning his way towards orgasm, helpless and trusting in his arms. Keith threw his head back, and Lance couldn’t look away. He trembled, arms locked around Lance’s neck, eyes screwed shut and lips parted. He looked so good, he looked so good, Keith looked like a wet dream Lance should never have stumbled upon. He gave his cock a few more short jerks, and Keith was coming between them and all over his stomach, little gasps punched out of him as he came and came hard.

Lance held him, and watched him. He kept jerking Keith slowly, gently, until he was sure he’d finished. Keith came down from his high with a beautiful little strung out sigh, and it honestly wasn’t fair for someone Lance hated so much to look and sound and feel so fucking good. His thighs squeezed unconsciously tighter around Lance’s knee before letting go, eyes fluttering open and a slow, lazy smile just tickling the corner of his lips. There was cum splattered all over his stomach and chest, but Keith looked so ridiculously blissed out Lance doubted he even cared.

“Thanks,” Keith whispered, like this was their little secret, something new and soft and nice.

“Yeah, no- not a problem,” Lance stuttered. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He practically leapt off the bed, stumbling over to the bathroom and returning with a handful of tissues to wipe the cum from Keith. Keith reached for him, a silent offer to return the favour, but Lance declined. He brushed Keith off with a smile, blamed it on the way the others eyes were already drooping, not on the fact he might die if Keith touched him and gave any more of himself to someone who unknowingly hated him. Lance even got into bed with him, assured Keith he was fine as he was, spooned the boy from behind so he wouldn’t see his terrified face. And they lay there, Lance’s cock rock hard in his jeans until Keith drifted off to sleep, and eventually, he did too.


End file.
